504: A guilty wife

They stroked each other's waists and backs, fingers gliding across sweat-dampened necks, noses brushing against earlobes, their gazes seemingly hooked, darting toward the daybed again and again.

The air in the warm pavilion was hot and heavy.

The scent of perfume, body fragrance, and the cloying smell of hair oil from the girls' locks all mingled together, causing the "God" to feel a wave of dizziness.

Xiao Si had been frozen in the System Space for three seconds, popping out a bunch of garbled code and exclamation marks: "Host... is, is this really something a Lily System can watch for free? They aren't dancing; this is an R-rated paid livestream, right???"

Shang Wan Ning had no time to spare for the system.

Another cup of "Wangchuan Spring" was downed.

The alcohol hit her, flushing the corners of her eyes red and casting an orange haze over everything she saw.

Her gaze swept across the young, boneless, swaying bodies in the light and shadow, landing on the way their sweat-dampened bangs stuck to their flushed cheeks, before finally fixing on the "3D" curves rising and falling violently with their gasps.

[Oh wow! It is quite a feast for the eyes.]

The girl with pink-purple hair suddenly broke free from the pile, tugged at her sweat-dampened spaghetti strap, walked to the small table beside the daybed, and poured herself a drink.

Then, holding the cup, she turned around and sat right on the armrest of Shang Wan Ning's daybed.

She turned sideways, one leg bent and resting on the edge of the daybed, the other dangling and swinging lightly. She held the wine glass to Shang Wan Ning's lips, her voice trailing with a smile, her breath brushing against the other's ear: "Your Majesty... shall This servant feed you?"

Shang Wan Ning stared at her.

For two or three seconds.

She raised her hand and, with a freshly manicured fingertip, scratched the pink-purple-haired girl's sweaty chin.

"Oh, you've got quite the nerve!"

The pink-purple-haired girl's eyes brightened, and she leaned in closer, the wine glass almost touching the Empress's lips.

The drumbeats in the warm pavilion were still thumping, and the rhythm of the other eight sisters' dancing slowed by half a beat. Their eyes drifted toward the daybed, their mouths suppressing "auntie smiles" as they shipped the pair.

"A Ning!"

From the entrance of the warm pavilion came a tart female voice.

The volume was low, even gentle, yet it was like a basin of ice water, instantly extinguishing the deafening music and the steaming heat.

The bass speakers fell completely silent.

The swaying figures all froze.

The pink-purple-haired girl's hand, still holding the wine glass, hung in mid-air; the seductive smile on her face froze as she slowly turned her head.

The beaded curtain had been lifted halfway, though no one knew when.

A tall figure stood at the entrance, silhouetted against the light of the palace lanterns in the corridor. Her expression was unclear, but one could vaguely make out a moon-white satin cheongsam embroidered with dark silver thread, clinging to her exquisite figure.

She did not step inside, just stood there.

The warm pavilion was deathly silent; only the blue smoke from the "Spring Message in the Snow" incense burner drifted lazily, mingling with the lingering cloying scent of perfume and alcohol, creating an eerie atmosphere that made one's scalp tingle.

The slight tipsiness in Shang Wan Ning's brain vanished in a "whoosh."

She blinked, then blinked again.

Sister Meng?

Wasn't she in seclusion at Meng Pos Shop, breaking through to the eighth rank? It had only been a short while; how did she come out?

And... she hadn't sensed any movement of Meng Jiang coming out of seclusion at all, not even a warning from Xiao Si.

Could she really be so drunk that she was seeing things?

A god only gets drunk if they want to, but she had indeed... been somewhat indulgent just now.

Now that she was sober, her divine consciousness was clear—the person at the entrance was, without a doubt, Sister Meng herself.

The collar of her cheongsam was buttoned meticulously, and her long hair was loosely pinned behind her head, revealing a fair, slender neck. There was no expression on her face, but those peach-blossom eyes that usually held a gentle smile were now excessively calm as they swept across the scene in the warm pavilion.

From Shang Wan Ning, who was sprawled on the daybed, her clothes slightly open, a crystal glass still pinched between her fingertips.

To the pink-purple-haired girl sitting on the edge of the daybed, almost pressed against the Empress.

And then past the group of girls behind them, dressed in revealing clothes, with sweat-dampened temples and stiff expressions.

Finally, her gaze landed back on Shang Wan Ning's face.

Shang Wan Ning's throat moved.

A sense of "guilt" surged from the soles of her feet, rushing straight to the top of her head for no reason. She instinctively wanted to hide the wine glass behind her back, but thinking that action too cowardly, she forced herself to stop and just set the glass on the small table beside her.

"Clang!"

"Meng..." She opened her mouth, her throat a bit dry. "Why are you out of seclusion?"

Meng Jiang pursed her lips slightly.

Stepping in silver high heels, she walked into the warm pavilion, step by step. Her heels clicked on the smooth floor, each sound striking heavily on the heart.

The pink-purple-haired girl had already sprung away as if electrocuted, standing obediently to the side, head bowed, not daring to breathe loudly.

The other eight people huddled together, wishing they could squeeze themselves into the corner of the wall.

Meng Jiang walked to the front of the daybed and stopped.

She leaned over slightly, extended two fingers, and picked up the crystal glass that Shang Wan Ning had placed on the small table. The rim was still stained with a bit of amber-colored wine and a faint lipstick mark.

Meng Jiang lowered her eyes, looking at the "smudge," and stared for quite a while.

Then she raised her eyes, her gaze landing on Shang Wan Ning's freshly done manicure. Translucent pink fading into smoky purple, sparkling with shell fragments, and blindingly shiny gold foil.

"The nails are done well," Meng Jiang said, opening her lips. "A new style?"

Shang Wan Ning curled her fingers.

"Yeah, I was bored, so I had Qing Dai do them for fun." She tried to make her tone sound a bit more natural. "I was thinking you were working hard in seclusion, so I intended to wait until you came out to..."

"Tell you in advance?" Meng Jiang interrupted her gently, placing the wine glass back on the small table, her fingertip lightly wiping across the lipstick mark on the rim.

"If you had told me in advance, would This servant have been able to see such a lively scene?"

She straightened up and looked around the warm pavilion.

Her divine consciousness swept over the tools that hadn't been cleaned up, the scattered wine jars, the cloying, heavy scent in the air, and the group of girls dressed in increasingly skimpy outfits, now acting like quails.

"Hmm, the girl group from the Cultural Propaganda Department?" Meng Jiang said, as if chatting. "The batch led by Olexia is indeed of higher quality than before."

The pink-purple-haired girl's shoulders trembled.

Shang Wan Ning cleared her throat: "They... came to demonstrate a newly choreographed dance for me. I was thinking that during the vacation, one should loosen up one's muscles and bones..."

"Heh, loosen up." Meng Jiang repeated it, nodding. "It is quite loose."

She walked to the center of the warm pavilion, where the carpet still bore the marks left from the intense dancing just moments ago. She squatted down, picked up a sequined waist chain that someone had dropped, held it between her fingertips, and examined it against the light.

"The dance is well-choreographed, too." Meng Jiang stood up, turned to look at Shang Wan Ning, the curve of her lips perfect and flawless.

"Especially that move where they leaned over to brace against the daybed, and the choreography where they slid across on their knees—very creative. Did Your Majesty enjoy it?"

The hair on the back of Shang Wan Ning's neck stood up.

Here it comes.

This familiar, gentle, smiling way of speaking that stabbed right into the heart with every word.

Sister Meng was usually graceful and generous, with a full-blown Older Sister Type vibe, but Shang Wan Ning knew better than anyone the hidden cunning and jealousy in her bones.

Usually, when she was a little jealous, at most she would "deal with" her more harshly at night, but given the current situation...

This wasn't just jealousy; this was a vinegar vat exploding, splashing the jar and the sour juice all over her face.

"It's, it's alright." Shang Wan Ning bit the bullet. "Just... average."

"Average?"

Meng Jiang raised an eyebrow and walked up to the pink-purple-haired girl.